


Find light in the beautiful sea

by Beleriandings



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Bittersweet, Family, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-14
Updated: 2015-06-14
Packaged: 2018-04-04 08:46:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,311
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4131445
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Beleriandings/pseuds/Beleriandings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set in Nevrast, shortly before Turgon is due to lead his people to Gondolin. Fingon and Fingolfin have come to visit, and they don’t know, and Aredhel begins to wonder whether they are really making the right choice…</p>
            </blockquote>





	Find light in the beautiful sea

“I thought I would find you out here” said Aredhel, coming out onto the balcony beside her brother, his back turned to her as he gazed out at the light of the full moon dancing on the restless waves in the bay of Nevrast. “The celebrations are not to your taste?”

Turgon looked back at her. “I wanted to think.”

She came to stand at his side, looping her arm through his. “And now you have, will you not come back? You’re the host, after all.”

“I'll… return in a minute” he said quietly. “It’s just Atar and Finno, and some of their people from Barad Eithel. I don’t think they’ll be mortally offended.”

She smiled. “Perhaps not.”

They stood side by side in silence for a while, looking out at the waves. “They’ll all be leaving tomorrow morning” said Aredhel after a while, into the silence. “And then, after that…”

“After that  _we_  will be leaving” said Turgon, nodding. He placed his hand on parapet before him, flat against the stone, and sighed. “Were you going to ask whether I had lost my nerve? Whether I still wanted to go through with the plan?”

She frowned, turning his face so that he was forced to look her in the eye. “I was  _going_  to ask if you had reconsidered the part about not telling them before we abscond into the mountains with a third of our people.”

“It’s not like that” he snapped, turning his face away again. “Don’t say that. Ondolindë is ready, we’ve waited long enough. I’m doing it to keep all of us safe, and because it has been foretold. I’m doing it because I  _have_  to.”

She sighed. “At least tell Finno. You owe him that much, don’t you?”

“Actually I don’t think I owe Findekáno anything.”

“He’s our brother, Turno.”

Turgon sighed. “He will not… he will not understand.”

“And Atar? Don’t you think you owe him an explanation?”

“He will try to stop me.”

“Yes, well, maybe that should tell you something.”

He glared at her. “I thought you were on my side in this?”

“Well,  _I_  thought we were all on the same side.”

“Irissë…” he passed his hand over his face, staring back out into the bay, the moonlight catching in the bright gems he wore in his hair. “Do you have to make this harder than it already is?”

The silence fell between them once more.

“Turno” said Aredhel quietly after a while. “You know if I’m on anyone’s side it’s your’s, don’t you?”

He had just opened his mouth to reply, when the door to the gallery from the turret stair opened, bathing them both with lampstone light. The gentle sounds of music and laughter from the great hall far below spilled out, and both of them turned to see their brother standing there.

“There you two are” said Fingon, smiling warmly. “Atar was beginning to think you had gotten lost in your own castle.”

“Not lost” said Turgon, smiling wanly. “Just thinking.”

Fingon nodded, coming to stand between them on the balcony. “It’s beautiful here” he said, gazing out to sea, the moon casting his face in silver. “Remember when Amil used to tell us stories of Cuiviénen? I always imagined it like this.”

“This is the sea, Finno.”

Fingon elbowed Turgon lightly in the ribs, indignant. “I  _know_ it’s the sea, Turno. I’m not completely clueless, you know. I meant the light. Although I suppose the light at Cuiviénen wouldn’t have been so bright, with only the stars.” He sighed. “All we knew was light, back then. It was hard to even imagine a place without it.”

No one said anything.

Aredhel, seeing her brothers’ faces side by side, picked out in profile, was struck for a moment by how similar their features were. Then Fingon smiled. “I should come and visit you more often, when my duties allow.” He frowned then, looking between them as neither of them answered. “What is it?”

Turgon blinked. “Nothing, brother. Nothing at all. Yes, and come visit. You’re right, the sea is beautiful.”

“We see it every day” Aredhel put in, a little hastily. “I suppose here in Nevrast everyone forgets it’s there, a little.”

“How?” asked Fingon, incredulously. “You can see it whenever you go outside, and hear it the rest of the time.” He smiled a little. “I was listening to it last night, as I was falling asleep in that west tower room you put me in.” His face darkened a little. “It reminded me of…”

“There you are” came another voice, interrupting his words. “You’ve been out here for so long, I was beginning to suspect a plot to kidnap my heirs. Thankfully my fears have been shown to be baseless.”

“Atar” said Fingon, shaking himself as Fingolfin came to stand beside them. “These two have been out here all along, and they somehow got me staring at the moon and reminiscing, the devious rascals.”

“I take no blame for that” said Irissë, grinning. “All Finno and Turno, I promise.”

“It’s cold out here” said Fingolfin as a brisk sea wind stirred their formal festival robes, looking in concern at his sons and his daughter. “If you’re going to stand here reminiscing, you should at least be wearing - ”

“Atar!” chorused the three of them, in exasperation.

“We’ve all been through much worse. And stop mothering us” said Aredhel, and then went quiet. “I mean… sorry, I shouldn’t have… I didn’t mean…”

Fingolfin nodded, coming to stand beside them and gathering his children in his arms. “I know, I know.” He smiled, releasing them all from the tight hug and looking between them, appraisingly. “But you know, with your mother gone, and after the Ice… after Arakáno…”

His three children darted glances amongst themselves.

“I can’t control the impulse to mother you” said Fingolfin, with a wry smile. He suddenly peered between their heads, back to the door that led inside, extending his hand. “Itarillë! Come to join us?”

“People downstairs are beginning to wonder where the rest of the family has gone” she said, raising the lantern in her hand. “I’ve been trying to play hostess, as best I can.”

Turgon took her in his arms, kissing her brow. “Sorry, sweet. Let’s go back, shall we?”

“Wait a moment” said Fingolfin. He gathered her into the circle of his arms with the rest of them, and for a while they all gazed at the moon and the stars overhead, visible in patches through the hazy clouds.

 _Do you really want to break up our family, Turno?_  thought Aredhel as she felt the warmth of them all around her.  _Little, broken as it is already. We have this still_.

But she said nothing. She knew that his mind was made up and nothing would change it, and such words would only cause her brother more pain.

Idril squeezed her hand, and the two of them exchanged a glance that suggested to Aredhel that her niece was thinking much the same thing as she was.

“Come now” said Fingolfin, after a while, and they broke apart. “What was that we were all saying about the court wondering where we had disappeared to?”

 

The next day, Fingon and Fingolfin and their people were packed and ready to begin the journey back to Hithlum. Both clasped Aredhel’s hands and hugged her tightly, and she found herself having to bite back tears, forcing her face into a carefully natural, relaxed smile.

She did not let them see.

Instead she looked over at Turgon, whose face was set into a smile that seemed even to her a little artificial, but when he spoke there was sincerity in his voice. “Goodbye Atar, Findekáno. Until we meet again.”

“Until we meet again.”

She could only watch them ride away, and wonder when that would be.


End file.
